


Land of the Blue

by GreenFish



Category: Gymnastics RPF, Olympics RPF
Genre: Epke Zonderland (NED), Fabian Hambuechen (GER), Fantasy Fulfillment, Gymnastics, M/M, MAG, Male Slash, Men's Artistic Gymnastics, RPF, Sam Mikulak (USA), gymternet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 06:14:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1376845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenFish/pseuds/GreenFish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fabian comes to train in the U.S. with Sam Mikulak for the 2014 AT&T American Cup and invites his buddy Epke to come along for a visit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Land of the Blue

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this came out from an interview I watched with Fabian after 2013 Worlds, where he said he was going to study for a semester at the University of Michigan, where Sam Mikulak from the U.S. Team currently goes to school and competes on their NCAA team. 
> 
> I revised my idea when I saw pictures of Fabian and Sam training together in Michigan this year for the American Cup. I loved imagining what would happen if Epke came along for the ride. Anyway, the gymternet needs more MAG fic. Please excuse any and all technical errors. They are all mine, due to the fact that I am merely a gymnastics spectator, and a novice one at that.
> 
> Also, I cannot continue without giving serious props to my dear friend [myheartleapt](http://myheartleapt.tumblr.com), who beta'ed this work because she is the only one who has personally witnessed my love for Epke Zonderland go from zero to infinity. This wouldn't be what it is without her help.

===

**Heerenveen, Friesland, Netherlands - February 2014**

===

Yawning heavily, Epke felt his eyes drifting shut as he closed his laptop, setting it aside.  Just then, his phone pinged.  He picked it up, seeing a What’s App message on his lock screen from his friend and fellow gymnast, Fabian.  Smiling, he unlocked the screen to read the entire message.

 

_F:  Americans are crazy.  I thought Germans drank a lot of beer but who does it at 10 in the morning?  Come save me from this madness!_

He laughed aloud.  Attached to the message was a picture Fabian had taken of himself making an exasperated face, and another picture showing a table crowded with beer bottles.  Epke and Fabian had been texting back and forth over the years.  Since last year’s Worlds, they had become even closer, and Fabian texted him at least once a week, it seemed.  Prior to that, they hadn’t spoken that often, outside of meets and competitions -- maybe a few times a year.  Since Fabian arrived in Michigan to train with Sam Mikulak a couple days ago, he’d been texting him every day.  Epke suspected Fabi was feeling out of his element there.  He wondered how often Fabian was texting his other friends in Germany.

_E:  I think you’re on your own.  I can’t help you!!_

__

_F:  You told me you love the US.  Come visit me!  Save me!!!_

__

_E:  I can’t do that, we’re starting team training soon._

__

_F:  You can train here while you visit!  I also don’t know why you didn’t sign up for the American Cup.  There’s almost no competition on HB._

__

_E:  My team training starts in almost three weeks.  I couldn’t do it this year._

__

_F:  OK, but you could still come see me!!!_

__

_E:  How??_

__

_F:  Come on!!!  Just for a short visit?  I need to have a conversation where I don’t have to refer to everyone as bro and everything is awesome.  Come see us and train!  Just for a week?_

__

_E:  Lol.  For real?_

__

_F:  Yes!  Who cares if you’re not going to AC?  You can still help me train!!!_

__

_E:  So you can beat me at Europeans?  Yeah right._

__

_F:  ;P  You're still the best, is that what you want to hear?  Lol!  But I really want you to come out here.  Sam and I are having fun, and I know you would too.  Please???_

__

_E:  :/  I don’t know.  That’s short notice.  Let me get back to you?_

The last time he’d spent more than a few days in the U.S. was six years ago, when he’d stayed with Jonathan Horton in Texas, and trained there for a few months.  It had been a good experience - Jon was a good guy, and Americans in general were very friendly - but there was comfort to training in your home country.  Especially with the Olympic qualifications approaching.  The more he thought about Rio, the more nervous he felt.  He knew every year that passed, there would be more competition, new faces; not to mention whether his body could keep up with the level of intensity the training required.  He wasn’t getting any younger.  

He compared the idea of staying in shape to perpetual motion:  that if he kept himself in perpetual training, he wouldn’t allow himself time to fall out of shape.  It was a marathon, to be sure.  Just like perpetual motion, though, it was only a concept, not a reality, and injuries always threatened to take you out of the game at any given moment.  Epke didn’t want to even take a week out of his strict schedule.  Sure, the major competition of the year, World Championships, was still seven months off, but he had just already stepped up his training schedule to five hours a day.  He was trying to grasp the four-flight element combination he wanted to use in his high bar routine, which he planned on bringing to Rio in 2016.  He wasn’t sure if he would use it this year, but knew he needed to start working it into his routine now if he wanted to be ready by the Olympics.  He also had to continue working on his all-around so his country could try to place as a team for 2016.  There were rumors that the Netherlands might have a chance to qualify as a team next year, but even Epke knew that was a long-shot.  There was too much competition on the world circuit from the other countries’ teams.  

Regardless, he needed to be focus more on all-around training in order to prepare for qualifications, and to benefit his country’s team score.  It didn’t seem like a trip to America would be particularly conducive to the heavy training schedule he was working on.  Especially with all the other promotional events his manager had him doing, in addition to working part-time at the clinic.  He felt like he barely had time to breathe.

On the other hand, he hadn’t seen Fabi since competing at Worlds in Antwerp last year. And maybe he _could_ use a vacation.  He had some vacation days already, so he could probably take off of clinicals for a week..  Hmm.

He decided to run it past his coach.  He opened his contacts and clicked on _Daniel Knibbler_.   

“How would you feel if I took a short trip to America - to visit a friend?” Epke asked when his coach finally answered.

“America?  For how long?” Daniel asked, yawning over the phone.  

Epke wondered if he’d woken him up.  After all, they had been at the gym at 5:30 a.m. that morning.  “I dunno,” he said.  “A week?  Ten days, maybe?”

“You have a lot of stuff coming up - team training starts in less than three weeks.  When are you talking about?”

“This week - I'm off school starting tomorrow and I would come back before training starts up again.  I would be training while I’m there, too.”  If he was being honest, the timing couldn't be better.  He just hadn't considered it until now.

“Oh?  Who would you be training with?” Daniel asked.

“Eh,” Epke paused.  He knew it was a running joke that he and Fabi had something going on between them, and he didn’t want to perpetuate the rumor.  The media called it a “bromance.”  Even his brother had made jokes about them on his Twitter.  On the other hand, he knew his coach wouldn’t think anything about it.

“Fabian’s over there, training in Michigan for the American Cup.  You know Sam Mikulak, from the U.S. team?  He studies and trains there, as well.”

“Ah, yes, of course.  OK,” Daniel said.  “You’re going to train with them while you’re over there?”

“You know if I’m with Fabian, we’re going to work hard.”

“I guess I can’t argue with that,” Daniel said.  He sighed.  “Just let me know when you’re leaving, then.  And make sure you call Johan, too, so he doesn’t book you any appearances while you’re gone.  You’re sure you don’t have anything?  This is very last minute.”

“No, I think it will be OK.  I think it is the right timing.  I’ll call you once I know what I’m doing,” Epke said before he hung up.  He immediately opened up the texting app on his phone.

_E:  Good news.  I can come visit._

__

It wasn't even thirty seconds before Fabian responded.  

_F:  I knew you couldn’t stay away._

__

_E:  OK….  :o_

__

_F:  Sam says hi and he can’t wait to see you too_

__

_E:  Haha me too.  I will text you when I make arrangements.  Will probably leave this week.  Is that good?_

_F:  We are here.  You can come anytime!  The sooner the better!!!!_

__

_E:  Good, I will let you know as soon as I can book a flight._

__

_F:  Ready your liver!_

__

_E:  ??  That sounds scary!_

_F:  Man up bro!!!_

_F:  The last two texts were from Sam haha_

__

_E:  Lol.  OK… I’ll let you know as soon as I book my flight_

__

Epke smiled, and closed the app.  It looked like it was happening, for better or for worse.

 

===

Two days later, he was headed out on a KLM flight to Chicago, then connecting to Detroit, where he was told Fabian and Sam would meet him.  To be honest, he felt a little strange coming to visit Fabian (and Sam) for a vacation, especially on such short notice.  Yes, he would consider Fabi a friend, but mostly in the context of gymnastics competition.  He had never been to Germany to visit Fabian, nor had Fabian come to the Netherlands to visit him, even though they had talked about it any number of times.    As far as the Americans went, he had gotten to know Jon Horton well enough after spending a few months training in Houston, but that was about it.  And Jon still lived in Houston, not Michigan.  Epke only knew Sam from a few conversations they’d had over the past few years at competitions and at the Olympics.  He had no idea what Sam was really like outside of the gym.  Probably not too different from most of the Americans he’d met:  overly friendly with the need to please everyone.  Sam had an energy in podium training that was unrivaled, so Epke assumed it probably translated off gym as well.

Epke wondered if they would do anything else besides training.  He had never been to Michigan, so he had no idea what it was like there.  Lately his life had been gym, clinic (he was working on his practical internship for Orthopaedics), eat, and sleep.  His girlfriend Linda had been complaining that she had to schedule time just to see him, and even then, it was usually for just a few hours at his flat in the evenings.  He tried as much as he could to see her, but it was difficult with everything he had going on.  He wondered if things between them would be easier once the next Olympics was over.  That was still over two years away, though.  It was part of the other reason he hadn’t proposed to her yet.  

Sure, he saw them getting married, but not while he was in the midst of forty-hour-plus training weeks that the Olympics would require.  He wanted to be able to give her all the attention she deserved.  After all, she’d stuck with him for this long.  He couldn’t imagine anyone else who would.  

He pulled his iPad out and started watching videos of practice routines they’d been working on that week.  He had been able to complete the high bar routine several times; now it was a matter of firming up execution, timing and consistency, the last of which was the most difficult to master.  For a split second, he questioned whether he should be practicing the routine in front of Fabi and Sam.  Daniel hadn’t said not to, so he figured it was OK.  It wasn’t like his competitors were going to change their routines because of him, right?  He figured they already knew what he was working on.  Fabi had already been joking about knowing his ‘trade secrets’ for the last couple months via text.  

They probably had their own ‘trade secrets’ up their sleeves, but the most important thing was concentrating on your own routines, and trying to do everything as cleanly and accurately as possible -- without falling or missing a mark.  Easier said than done.

Just that week, he’d fallen off the bars no less than four times, mostly during the transition between the third and fourth release.  It was something about that transition from the Kolman to Kovacs after going through the first combo that was causing him a challenge.  He _could_ do it, it was just a matter of being able to do it consistently and cleanly and still finish the rest of the routine.  Right now it seemed it was a matter of endurance, and he was constantly working towards making himself stronger.  Epke found himself wondering how many flight elements Fabi was planning on using for his routine.  

Fabian had gotten up to two releases at Worlds last year, but he’d stepped on the landing, causing a slight deduction in the score.  Epke had used three flight elements in combination, and had managed to stick the landing.   Even despite errors in execution (it was _always_ the form with him), he still remained above Fabi in that competition based on the additional D points by using the combo, and other difficult elements throughout the routine.  He was curious what Fabi and Sam would say about the four flight-element combination when they trained in Michigan.  He considered that maybe he should just work on the other all-around events instead.  He certainly needed the practice in them, particularly the pommel horse and floor.  

Epke settled further into his seat, restarting the last video to concentrate on the routines again.

===

**Detroit Metropolitan Airport, Detroit, MI, U.S.A. - February 2014**

===

As soon as Epke came down the escalator towards the baggage claim, he saw that Fabi and Sam were waiting at the bottom, Sam holding a sign that had a cartoon pirate with a picture of Epke’s head pasted on it and the words “Flying Dutchman!” at the bottom. 

Fabian immediately ran at him as he reached the bottom, pulling Epke into a lung-crushing hug.  

“Whew,” Epke said, as Fabian leaned back, not completely letting go.  “You still have it!”

“Have what?” Fabi asked.

“The hugging skills of an Olympic champion,” he grinned.  “Nice to see you.”

Fabian patted his side, and let go.  “I’m just happy to see a friendly face.”  He glanced at Sam.  “I mean, Sam’s been great, too, of course …”  Fabian grinned sheepishly at him.

“Yeah, thanks, man,” Sam said with a grin.  “I see how it is.”

Epke grinned back in response, grabbing Sam’s hand, and pulling him around into a friendly hug.  “I like the sign,” he said, gesturing at the paper Sam still had in his head.

“Oh, yeah.  Really glad you could make it out!  Seriously.  We’re gonna have a _blast_.  It’s like being at a gymnastics meet -- all of us getting together.  I really wish you were coming to the Cup with us, too!”  Sam jumped up and down in place.  “That’s OK, though - we’ll have plenty of fun here, trust me.”

“Should I be afraid?” Epke whispered to Fabian as they headed over to the baggage claim.

“Very,” Fabian whispered back.  

“You guys are _already_ telling secrets?” Sam asked with a raised eyebrow and half smile.

“Nah,” Fabian said, rolling his eyes.  “I was just trying to warn him about your friends and partying.”

“Ohhhh yeah, we’re going _out_ this week.  There’s a party my buddy Steve is having that we cannot miss.  It’s gonna be a celebration, bitches!”

“There’s about three of these a week,” Fabian muttered with a sideways expression.  “I had to quickly learn how to say ‘no.’”

“I have become very good at that over the years,” Epke smiled politely.  

“C’mon.  You guys can’t cop out.   Epke has to come out at least a few times.  I have to show ya what being Blue is all about!”  Sam pumped both fists at them.  “Go Blue!”

  
What was with Americans and fist-pumping?  “Uh, yeah, sure,” Epke said with a grin to shut him up.  He didn’t really plan on doing any drinking (his training diet couldn’t afford it, even if he wanted to) but he guessed it didn’t mean he couldn’t go out with them once or twice.  It was only polite, after all.

“Sweeeet,” Sam said, as Epke found his suitcase and they headed out toward the parking lot.

 

===

**Ann Arbor, MI, U.S.A. - February 2014**

===

The next day was fairly uneventful.  He felt like Michigan was a little bit more scenic than Texas had been - there were at least more hills and trees, but the endless number of strip malls and parking lots and cars never ceased to amaze him - he’d seen a lot of this in the few times he’d been in the U.S., but it still seemed odd.  Plus, there was snow everywhere, which was bizarre as well.  Apparently, Michigan had a large snowstorm earlier that week, and it hadn’t been warm enough to melt.  They did get snow in the Netherlands, but not that much, generally.  Despite all the snow on the ground, the roads were clear and everyone seemed to get around OK.  Mostly, he was struck by how cold it was.  Even in the winter, people walked and biked everywhere in his country, but here, everyone seemed to drive, and given how cold it was, he was grateful for that.

The first night, Sam insisted on bringing them out to a place he called “B-Dubs” (the actual name was Buffalo Wild Wings), which was based entirely on the concept of chicken wings and beer, it seemed.

When he tried to order a salad, the guys at the table made fun of him, so he agreed to try some actual chicken wings.  Sam’s exact words were:  “You _can’t_ be here and not eat wings.  It’s sacrilege, man.”  Whatever that meant.

That being said, the wings were decent enough:  chicken wasn’t exactly his favorite thing, considering that he ate a lot it due to his diet, so adding some extra sauce wasn’t going to make it anything amazing, in his opinion.  On the other hand, the wings were definitely better than the awful excuse for a salad they brought out in a plastic basket.  He supposed that’s what he got for trying to eat healthy at an American pub.

===

The following day, he didn’t wake up until 10 a.m., due to jet lag and the time change.  Guilt washed over him until he realized he was on vacation, and didn’t have to be at the gym at 5:30 a.m. so he could make it to his clinical rounds by noon.  It was a nice feeling.  After he got up and headed into the kitchen, he saw a piece of paper with his name on it.  It was in Fabian’s handwriting.

_Epke,_

__

_Had to run out, but I will be back around 10:30, so if you want to go to gym after that, we can.  Sam will meet us later._

__

_F._

__

He decided to take a quick shower to wake up before Fabian got back.   

Stepping into the bathroom, he puttered around with the controls until he could get the shower temperature right.  That was another thing about not being at home:  having to figure out how all the shower controls worked.   You would think that plumbing was a simple matter, but it never failed that he would get the temperature or the controls wrong.  What turned on a shower in one bathroom plugged a tub in another, and what was supposed to be cold in one was scalding in another.  When the temperature was finally right, he stepped in, sighing as the hot water hit his scalp.

He glanced around at the bottles stacked up in the basket attached to the wall of the shower.   American brand names were amusing.  In the basket was a bottle of Axe shampoo, Old Spice (!) body wash, and Schuma for Men shampoo, which, upon closer inspection, appeared to be a German brand.  Some odd curiosity made him open the bottle and sniff it, and immediately, he was reminded of Fabian.  He decided to use it, but as soon as he put it in his hair, he felt paranoid that maybe Fabi would smell it and know he’d used his shampoo.  Was that weird?  He felt his face growing warm, feeling that he had crossed some invisible barrier, using his shampoo.  Still, there was something comforting about the scent that he couldn’t really explain.  

He decided against using the Old Spice body wash (the scent was not appealing at all) and borrowed some more of the shampoo to wash the rest of his body with.  He realized he needed to go to the store today and get some shampoo and wash of his own if he didn’t want to smell suspiciously like Fabi the whole time he was there.  Not that there was anything wrong with that, but, again, no need to perpetuate rumors and all of that.

===

They had been at the gym for a couple hours before Epke finally started working on his high bar routine.  He always spent the first hour in strength training, then stretches and equipment prep.  He started out just practicing each release individually.  Getting into the releases required a certain amount of endurance and strength, but he knew what the limitations of his body were, and didn’t want to injure himself unnecessarily.  Fabian had mentioned they had the space until 4 p.m., when the university team would be there to practice, including Sam.  That gave him another two hours to build up slowly and hopefully work through the whole routine once.

He loved the feeling of the breeze flowing through his hair as he twisted midair.  It could be a strangely dizzying sensation if you didn’t concentrate and make sure you knew where your hands were at so you could grab the bar on the way back down. The releases happened so fast, you really had to be focused the entire time to land them properly.  As his hands connected and he swung back around, he caught a glimpse of Fabian balancing himself on the p-bars, eyes locked on Epke.  Epke felt a rush in his head suddenly, and let go at the next opportunity, barely managing to land on his feet.  

He turned toward Fabian, then, whose gaze was still trained on him.  Fabi grinned, swinging up into a handstand before twisting around and dismounting.  

“What?” Epke asked, as he came over to where Fabi was standing.  Epke grabbed at his water bottle to give himself a distraction.  He could feel his cheeks warming up again, and hoped he wasn’t visibly flushed.  

Fabian shrugged.  “I dunno.  I just like watching you practice.”  He winked, then, taking on a joking tone: “I thought maybe I could learn something.”

Epke grinned back.  “Hey, listen, that’s why I came, for real, so I could teach you some winning skills, yeah?  You do want to show Mikulak who his 'boss' is, right?”

Fabian laughed.  “Don’t think I didn’t notice the times you completely missed the bar this afternoon.”

Epke shook his head.  He had fallen a couple times; perhaps because he was still a little jet-lagged, or maybe because he was nervous about practicing in front of Fabian.  He wasn’t exactly sure why; he and Fabian practiced together all the time before competitions, and he hadn’t even gotten into his routine yet.  “Eh,” he said, unwrapping his hand guards.  “You want some time on high bar?  I think I’ve been keeping it from you.”

“Yeah, that’d be good. My _vati_ is coming on by in a bit and I know he wanted me to work on my high bar some more.”

“Your father’s in the U.S., too?” Epke asked.  Fabian’s father was his coach, so he guessed it wasn’t a big surprise his father had followed Fabian out to Michigan.  Epke just hadn’t really thought about it until Fabi said something.

“Yeah, he’s just here till the end of the week, then he’s going to go back home for a week before the Cup.  I think he misses _Mama_ ,” he said with a smirk.  “Plus I need a break from him.  Being away at uni in Germany, I don’t see him a lot, so it’s weird having him around all the time again.”

“Ah, yeah,” Epke said.  Epke thought it would be kind of odd having his father as a coach.  His family was extremely supportive, and attended all his events and competitions when they could, but having a coach who wasn’t related to him made it easier.  His brother Herre had actually trained him for a short period of time when he was in-between coaches, but that would never have worked out permanently.  They argued way too much.

Epke dipped his hands into the chalk box, rubbing them together.  “Actually, I was surprised Dani let me come out for the week.”

“Everyone needs a vacation now and then,” Fabi said, hopping up onto the block so he could get onto the high bar.  “Even Nederland’s ‘Golden Boy.”’

“Ha, ha,” Epke said, lifting himself up onto the p-bars.  

They both were silent for a bit as they practiced their various routines.  It wasn’t until the gym door swung open and Epke recognized the familiar face of Fabian’s father crossing the floor.  He dismounted quickly, brushing his hands off on his shorts.

“Mr. Hambuechen,” he said as the older man approached, and stuck his hand out.

Wolfgang Hambuechen smiled, unexpectedly pulling Epke into a tight hug.  “Epke!  So nice you came to visit.”  

He heard Fabian land on the mat with a large “Oof,” and glanced over to see Fabian stand up, brushing himself off with a sheepish expression.  “ _Vati_.”

“Fabi,” Wolfgang said, still smiling.  “I hope you are learning something from your friend being here.”

“He just _got_ here,” Fabian said, slightly exasperated.  He pointed to the high bar and started having a rapid-fire conversation in German, which Epke only understood bits and pieces of.  Rather than try to eavesdrop, he chalked up again and went back to the p-bars.  

“So, Epke,” Wolfgang said after he had finished with Fabian, who was back to swinging on the high bar.  “Any particular reason you came out to visit?”

Epke glanced up at Fabian, who seemed to either be very involved in his routine, or studiously ignoring them.  “Um,” he said.  “Just for fun, I guess.  I’ve never been to Michigan, and, you know, I’m friends with Fabian, and know Sam through competition, so we thought it might be fun to get together and train a bit.”

“Are you participating in the American Cup as well, then?”  Wolfgang asked.

“Nah, it was too tough with my schedule, I have team training in a few weeks, which would have run into that, so, um, yeah.”  He shrugged.  “I’m just here for practice.”

“Is your team going to Europeans this year?”

Epke’s face brightened.  “We hope so.  I’m going to be practicing some of my routines while I’m here, so, you know, maybe you or Fabi can give me some advice.”  He grinned and pulled himself back up onto the bars.

“I hope you don’t mind if I’m talking to my son in German; it’s just easier to communicate that way for me.  I’m not as fluent as you boys are.”

“Eh, my English could use work,” Epke said, grunting as he held his weight up on the bars.  He released with a loud breath.  “I, eh, I hope being here gives me a little more practice in speaking.”

“I already see an improvement for the short time Fabian’s been here.” He glanced over at Fabian, who was now hanging upside down, looking at them.  “He’s even starting to talk like the Americans.  ‘Right, dude?’” he said, imitating an American accent.

“Very funny,” Fabi said, pulling himself back upright.  “I do not talk like them.”

Wolfgang smiled at Epke.  “You spend enough time here and it’s ‘dude’ this and ‘cool’ and before you know it, you’re drinking Miller Lite and calling it real beer.”  He shook his head.  “But, Fabian’s having a good time, I think.  It’s nice to have the experience to train abroad.”

“Yeah,” Epke said, sitting down on the mat to stretch for a minute.  His hamstring had started to tighten up.  “I spent some time in Houston in -- eh, 2009?  I trained with Jon Horton for the American Cup that year.  It was a good experience, for sure.  Plus you get new perspective from being around different people.”

“That’s true,” Wolfgang said, pausing to shout some instructions at Fabian in German again.  He saw Fabi’s back straighten, his feet pinching together.  He could see where Fabi’s good form came from.  

“I could use your advice on form,” Epke said, nodding at the high bar.  “I want to improve my E-score in my routine.”  

“I’d advise you,” Wolfgang said, “but I’d have to kill you.”

Epke looked up quickly to see Wolfgang wink at him.  

“Joking,” Wolfgang said.  The coach pointed at the high bar.  “Why don’t you hop up there, I’ll give you some pointers.  Fabi, come down.”

Fabian dismounted cleanly, shooting a crooked smile in Epke’s direction.  He couldn’t tell if Fabi was pleased or felt odd about his father coaching Epke here.  After all, they were technically professional rivals, but, well.  They’d discussed any number of times about training together in Germany.  Daniel would be happy to coach Fabi, were they in opposite shoes.  Epke appreciated any help he could get.  As Wolfgang shot out directions at him while he was turning, his focus narrowed back to the bar and being in that place where he needed to be to concentrate fully on the practice.

===

The next day, Epke slept late again, as they didn’t arrive back at the house until after 7 p.m., which was the equivalent of 2 a.m. back home.  Considering that he usually was asleep by 10 p.m. most nights, the lag was still taking a toll on him.  He considered asking Fabi if they could take it a little easier that day.  They had discussed going back to the gym for a full day again, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready for that.  He was going through his Twitter feed when Fabian arrived back at the suite around 11 a.m.  

“You ready to go?” he asked, looking over Epke, who was already dressed in warm up pants and a t-shirt.  

Epke leaned back against the couch, sighing.  “I’m kind of messed up from the time change.  Do you think we could wait a little bit before we leave today?  I don’t want to ruin your schedule, but, eh --”

“That’s OK.  My father is packing to go back today, so he wasn’t going to come by the gym until later this afternoon.  I think he thinks we want time to hang out alone, anyway.”

Epke glanced up at him, trying to read his expression, but Fabian just shrugged and sat down on the couch next to him.  

“What’re you doing?” he asked.

“Just checking Twitter - and, ah, my family’s supposed to call me in a couple minutes, on Skype.  I think my Ma is a little worried, because Pa e-mailed me yesterday to make sure the flight came in OK.”

Fabian’s head tilted in question.

“She’s a little overprotective,” Epke explained.  “They usually come along to my events -- and I haven’t taken a holiday in a while, so she gets worried when she hasn’t heard from me in a day or two.”

Fabian nodded.  “Yeah.  I guess I can’t say anything considering I train with my father all the time.”

Just then, the iPad dinged loudly, signaling an incoming Skype call.  Epke tapped the screen to open the app, and saw most of his family gathered around, grinning widely at him when he answered.  “ _Hallllo Epke!_ ” came out in a varied chorus.  He grinned back and said hello.  He felt a sense of calm in seeing his family again.  Not that he’d been gone long enough to get homesick, but there was a sense of comfort in getting to see and talk to your family at the same time, even from thousands of miles away.

He talked to his mother first, updating her on the flight and how things were in the U.S.  Then his girlfriend Linda came on to say a few words, blow him a kiss and tell him that she missed him.  He missed her, too.  Even though she didn’t stay over with him all the time back at home, he missed having her in his bed for even a couple nights a week.  Like his family, she had been a constant presence in his life for so long.  It was strange to be apart.  

Finally, his brother Herre came on, and of course, his first question was:  “How are things with your _boyfriend_ over there?”  

Epke immediately started blushing, despite himself.  He was glad Herre was speaking Dutch, because he probably would have had a heart attack if Fabian had been able to translate that.   “Very funny,” he answered back, still speaking in Dutch.  “We trained yesterday and are going back to the gym today, so, you know, business as usual.  Nothing scandalous to report, much to your chagrin, I’m sure.”

“Is Fabian there?” Herre asked, this time in English.

Fabi, still sitting next to him, perked up when he heard that, and leaned over towards the screen.

“I am here,” he said with a half smile.  

Herre knew Fabian just as long, or perhaps longer than Epke, even, because Herre had competed against Fabian’s brother when they were both still on the gymnastics circuit.  Herre and Fabian had a long-standing history of ribbing each other.  

Fabian had a better sense of humor for it than Epke did, for some reason.

“Ah!  ‘Fabi the Fabulous!’  I have missed your bright and smiling face.”

“‘Herre the Horrible’.... it has been a while, hasn’t it?”

“You wound me, sir.  I am only trying to be a good brother and share my friendly greetings while _my_ dear brother is visiting you.”

“Yeah, yeah, what else is new?” Fabian said with a smirk.  “Still breaking hearts everywhere you go?”

“Well, I don’t think my lady would appreciate if I took up with every girl who approaches me.  Anyway, they’re only interested in Epke.   _You_ probably know all about that.”

“OK, OK,” Epke broke in, grabbing the iPad so it was facing away from them.  “That’s enough already,” he said, switching back to Dutch.  “This conversation is over.”

“I’m just having a little fun,” Herre chuckled, still speaking in English.  “Enjoy your lover’s holiday!”

With that, Epke immediately clicked the iPad off.  He felt his face and neck burning, and he couldn’t look at Fabian at first.  Herre was such an instigator.  When he finally glanced over at Fabian, it didn’t seem he was fazed like Epke was.  Fabi snorted in the back of his throat, grabbing the iPad away from him and setting it down.  “C’mon,” Fabian said.  “Let’s grab some lunch.  I know a great coffee shop where we can get a sandwich before we hit up the gym.”

“Yeah,” Epke said with a sigh, getting up.  He supposed he shouldn’t let Herre’s stupid comments get to him.  Especially since Fabi didn’t seem at all fazed by it.  But it disturbed him that he was bothered at all.  

===

“Tonight is the night!” Sam announced as they were finishing up at the gym the following day.  He had spent the last hour and a half watching the Michigan university team practice, and his brain was still processing the mental notes he was making about some of their routines and techniques.  

“Pardon?” Epke asked, standing up and stretching. He felt stiff from sitting still for so long.

“We are going _out_ tonight!  My buddy Steve’s party -- remember I mentioned it when you came in?  It’s tonight.  And it’s gonna be _huge_.  Steve knows how to really throw a party.”

“Oh -- OK,” Epke said, trying to sound interested, but he couldn’t really think of a reason why he might want to go to this party.  He might say he was getting too old for that, but honestly, going to parties had never really been his thing.  He wasn’t a big drinker due to the fact that he was constantly training, and because he was with Linda, he wasn’t looking for a random girl to to get together with. Socially, he was a pretty boring person, and mainly enjoyed a night in, watching some TV, reading, or practicing guitar, rather than going out and getting drunk.  

Still, Epke was a guest, and therefore, he had to do the polite thing and come out.  At least Fabian would be there so he’d have someone else to talk to.

It wasn’t until Sam had been talking for about a minute that Epke realized he hadn’t been listening at all.  “-- At about ten, we’ll head out, OK?” Sam was saying.

Epke shook his head, feeling like he’d missed something.  “Ten -- at night?”

“Yeah.  There’s a home basketball game tonight, which we’re going to first, and then I wanted to stop back at the house to change before we head over to Steve’s, around ten.  Sounds good?”

“Uh, yeah -- sure,” he said, but his head was spinning thinking about it all.  He was still exhausted from the training they’d done that afternoon and now they were going to go to a game and a party?  Was this the way normal people lived their lives at university?  When he was at home, he spent the majority of time at the gym and the rest of the time working at the clinic, so it was hard to imagine how anyone had all this extra time to do these sorts of things.  

As they headed into the locker room to shower and change, Epke asked, “So, when do you have time to study during all this?”

“Ah, well,” Sam grinned.  “I keep a small class load, so I have time to train and do what I need to do in-between classes.  I’m sure you had to do the same.  Anyway, it’s Friday, and I usually do my studying and assignments on Sundays -- then I’m ready for class on Monday morning.  It gives me a day or so to relax and enjoy myself -- in-between gym sessions and meets, of course.”  He smiled again, and shrugged.

“Huh,” Epke said.  He supposed he just filled his free time with other things.  Because he lived so close to his parents’ house, he often took off on Sundays and hung out at their house, or went skating with Linda, or put in extra hours at the gym, if it was close to a competition.  

“Anyway, you’ve never seen a party till you’ve seen a U of M party.  If we win the game tonight, which I think we will, it’s going to be off the hook, man!  No joke.”

“‘Off the hook!’” Fabian whispered in his ear as he walked by, wearing only a towel.  Epke felt a quick shiver run down his spine, and he gazed after Fabi, who turned back at the last minute before going into the showers to wink at Epke.  

===

Epke ended up leaving the basketball game early and heading back to the hotel for a nap.  He didn’t know how the other guys did it -- he was exhausted just from getting up at a normal time and being at the gym for a good part of the day.  He was in a dead sleep when someone came into his room and jumped on top of him.  Instinctively, he shoved hard, not waking up fully until he heard a loud 'thump' and a cry of protest.

He leaned over the bed, his eyes focusing as he saw Fabian standing up, and rubbing his side.

“Nice move, man,” Fabi said, frowning.  

Epke offered him a hand as he sat up, helping Fabian sit on the bed next to him.  “I’m so sorry, I -- I guess I don’t react well to being woken up suddenly.”  He made a face.  “You know, um, having two older brothers, and all.”

Fabian pretended to look annoyed for a half-second, but Epke saw the smile lurking on the corner of his mouth.  “Listen, we’re going to the party soon.  Are you coming?”

Epke yawned loudly.  “I should come, right?”  Both of them knew he’d probably be happier begging it off, especially not knowing anyone except Sam and Fabi, but they also knew that Sam really wanted him to come.  He kept referring to showing him a ‘good old American time,’ but Epke was pretty sure Sam just meant he wanted to see him drunk.  

“Come on.  Get dressed,” he said, slapping at Epke’s bare chest.  “Sam called me and said he’s going to be here in ten minutes.”

“Yeah, yeah, OK,” Epke said, pausing for a moment.  He felt embarrassment creep up into his face as he realized he was only wearing boxer briefs that did nothing to hide the blood that had rushed into his nether regions while he was sleeping.  Sure, it was a biological response, but he felt weird about Fabi seeing it.  

When it was obvious Fabi wasn’t leaving the room immediately, he nodded at him to try to push him along.  “Are _you_ ready to go?” he asked, looking him over.  Fabi was wearing what he’d worn to the basketball game:  a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a leather jacket.  

Fabian shrugged, standing up.  “What?  You don’t think this is party attire?” he asked, turning around in a circle and shaking his butt at Epke.  He couldn’t help but notice how the fitted jeans hugged Fabian’s ass.  Quite well, in fact.  

Epke tried not to think about it too much, though; especially considering his current predicament.  “I don’t know - I guess I’m asking so I dress OK,” he said, focusing his thoughts on his own clothing choices to keep his mind off Fabian, who was still standing in front of him, shifting his weight back and forth between his feet.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine with whatever you decide,” Fabian said, brushing his arm lightly.  Epke felt the hairs on his arm stand up and his stomach dipped.  

This was not helping at all.  He felt relieved when Fabian finally turned to head out of the room.  Epke stood up, feeling a rush of cold air seep in through the opening in his shorts.  He blew a breath of air out between his lips and opened up his suitcase.  It wasn’t until a few seconds had passed that he realized Fabian hadn’t actually left, but had been standing in the doorway the entire time.  He caught a glimpse of Fabian watching him, from of the corner of his eye, before he looked up to see Fabi quickly turn to go down the hall.  Had Fabian been staring at him in his shorts?  Had Fabi noticed he was half-hard?

Something about that thought spread a quick warmth to his groin, and he was fully erect again.  Damn it, he thought, closing the door to his room completely and locking it.  He was going to have to take care of this before they left, or he’d be thinking about it all night long.

===

He hadn’t really planned on drinking at the party, but when they arrived there, the first thing Sam announced was that they’d bought a keg of Amstel Light in Epke’s honor.  Steve, the host, was a basketball player for Michigan, and towered almost a half a meter over them.  He felt rude saying no when they poured him a beer in a very large red plastic cup.  But what he hadn’t expected was how difficult it would be to say ‘no’ as the night went on.  Especially once Sam forced him into playing a drinking game that involved cards and quick hands.  He found his ability to put his cards in quickly diminished rapidly as the game went on.  After finishing off what he guessed was his fourth beer (it was hard to tell because Steve and Sam kept topping his cup off), he decided it was time to quit the game before it went too far.  He was already feeling light headed, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had drank that much.  Maybe two Christmases ago, and that had been his brother Johan’s fault, anyway.

Epke realized he hadn’t seen Fabian for over an hour.  He glanced at his watch.  It was already after 1 a.m.  He was trying to remember when they had actually come to the party.  Everything was starting to blur together.  He stood up, taking a deep breath and noticed Sam laughing at him.  Was he swaying?  Damn it.  He hated being drunk.  Epke managed to shoot what he thought was a dirty look at Sam, and stumbled out of the kitchen towards the living room, where they had a DJ booth and a light kit set up.  It was like a scene out of a movie; people were dancing everywhere.  

And in the middle of it all was Fabian, dancing in-between two girls in very, very short dresses.  In fact, if they gyrated any lower, their dresses would probably ride up and show off _everything_ below the waist.  He felt an unconscious response to this, which made him frown.  It was like being sixteen all over again, with these uncontrollable sexual urges.  

Epke leaned up against a speaker, which then shifted under his weight and almost fell over, except that he just managed to tip it back up in time.  He cursed under his breath, embarrassed by his lack of coordination.  The commotion was enough to catch Fabi’s attention, however, and he looked over in Epke’s direction.  When Fabian realized what he was looking at, his eyes lit up, and he whispered in the girls’ ears, presumably to excuse himself.  

Epke found himself rooted in place as Fabian headed straight for him, a huge grin plastered on his face.  He started laughing as soon as he reached Epke.  “Hallo, stranger,” he said.  He slapped Epke’s cheek lightly and said, “Looks like _someone’s_ had a few beers.”

“Hm,” Epke said, afraid to actually speak aloud.  He made a face instead.

“Sam kept saying he was going to get you drunk.  I guess he was right!” Fabian said, still chuckling.  

Epke frowned.  “I don’t, um …” He cleared his throat, trying to sound normal.  “I don’t usually drink, um, a lot, so…”  He gave up trying to form a full sentence.  He really, really hated Sam.

Fabian didn’t seem bothered by it.  Quite the opposite, in fact.  He wrapped his arm around Epke’s shoulder and pulled him close to his face.  Epke’s face heated up even more as Fabian pressed his cheek up against his.  Fabian’s mouth slid against his jaw towards his ear.  Epke felt his hot breath on his earlobe, and he shifted uncomfortably to his right.  “I’ve had a few beers myself, so it’s OK.  You have to let go every once in a while, you know.”

His voice was gravelly and warm and Epke shifted back again, resisting the urge to adjust himself.  God, was he getting hard again?    _Fuck_.

“Hm,” Epke said, afraid to try and say anything else.  

“C’mon.  Let’s dance a little bit.”

Epke felt panic starting to set in as Fabi pulled him by the hand out to the makeshift dance floor.  He really wasn’t a good dancer, and he really didn’t want to rub up against some other girl.  Especially not with the hard-on he was now sporting in his jeans.  He was glad his jeans were loose enough so that his condition wasn’t completely obvious.  “Uh, I don’t…” he started to say, but Fabian shushed him.

“Come on, don’t be a ‘party pooper,’ as Sam would say.” Fabian grinned and pulled him in close, his hand closing over the curve of Epke’s bottom.  

Full-on panic hit him as Fabian touched his forehead to Epke’s.  “What are you…” Epke started to say just as Fabian pressed his lips wetly against Epke’s mouth.  

His body reacted automatically, his groin pushing roughly against Fabian’s, his arm reaching around so his hand could press against Fabian’s back. _God, it felt so good._  He hadn’t realized how long he’d been wondering just how this would feel.  He moaned into Fabian’s mouth, which in turn caused Fabian to push his tongue against Epke’s teeth, forcing him to open his lips and mouth to Fabi.  Their tongues mashed against each other wildly as their hips gyrated in sync.  The more they kissed, the more he wanted it, and he moved his head this way and that trying to get more, taste more.  When Fabi moved from his mouth to his jaw, eventually suckling down to his neck, Epke briefly opened his eyes, remembering suddenly where he was, and who he was with.   Half of the dance floor had stopped to watch them.  

His face burned hotly, and he immediately buried himself into Fabian’s shoulder, mortified.   _What was he doing?_  He had a girlfriend.  Fabian was his _friend_.  Not that there was anything wrong with it, but he had never thought of himself as being gay - or even bisexual, for that matter.

Fabian didn’t seem to care, though, and continued to run his lips over the curve between his shoulder and neck, his breath heavy and hot against Epke’s skin.  

“Fabian,” he managed to get out, his voice shaking.  “We have to … we can’t, um…”

“What’s wrong?” Fabian asked, his eyes dark and full as he pulled back to look up at Epke, his nose almost touching Epke’s.  “I thought you wanted this.  I saw…”

“Oh,” Epke said, as he felt Fabian brush his hand across his crotch.  God, he was even more turned on than before.  He cleared his throat, pressing his face against Fabian’s as if that would hide him from everyone.  “I, uh… not, eh, here, I…”  

He could not even form a coherent sentence, for God’s sakes.

“C’mere,” Fabian whispered into his ear, taking his hand and pulling him through the small crowd, who seemed to part for them as they walked through, and down the hallway to one of the darkened rooms.  By the time he had readjusted, Epke realized they were standing in one of the bedrooms of Steve’s flat.  Epke’s back was pressed against the door, which Fabian had closed behind them, and his hands were locked with Fabian’s.  

“What is, uh…?” Epke started to ask, before Fabian shut him up with another kiss on the lips.  This one was slower than the last one, and Fabi lazily ran his tongue along Epke’s bottom lip, which caused Epke’s cock to twitch in his pants.  He didn’t think he could get any harder than he already was.  

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” Fabian murmured when they finally broke apart.  “I think you have, too.”

Epke didn’t know what to say.  His breath was coming out in short spurts through his nose.  His chest heaved up and down.  Fabian shifted himself so his length was pushing up against Epke’s, as if to emphasize his point.  Epke looked down at Fabian, whose lips were parted slightly, waiting for his response.  Epke licked his lips.  He swallowed.  

“OK,” Epke finally got out, which immediately caused Fabian to chuckle.

“OK?” he asked, leaning back, his eyes bright.  “That’s what you have to say?”  

Epke shrugged, unable to do anything else.  He smiled shyly, forcing himself to look at Fabian, who was still grinning wildly at him.  “I don’t, um…”

“That’s all right,” Fabian said with a smirk.  He let go of Epke’s hand to run the side of his hand along Epke’s jaw.  “You don’t have to say anything.”  He smiled crookedly.  “Do you want to, um, go back to the hotel?”

Epke’s eyes widened.  He didn’t know what he had expected, but.  He thought for a moment.  He wondered what this would mean -- for them, for their friendship.  For _his_ relationship.  He had never cheated on his girlfriend before.  He wondered if Fabian had a girlfriend.  Fabi hadn’t mentioned anything about it since he’d gotten here, but -- well, maybe he was gay and hadn’t figured it out until recently?  Epke didn’t know what to think.

Fabian must have sensed his hesitation.  “We don’t … have to,” he said, blowing hot puffs of air against Epke’s neck.  “I don’t want to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Epke moaned lightly under his breath at the sensation of what Fabi was doing.  “Um,” he breathed out.  “I just … I don’t know -- I don’t know what, um, we’re, um --”

“We can do whatever you want to do,” Fabian said into his ear, his voice gravelly and low.  It went right to his groin, and he felt his hips shift forward to rest against Fabian’s.  

“I think…”  He swallowed hard, shutting his eyes, his head resting back against the door.  It was a long second before he opened his eyes again slowly.  He licked his lower lip, steeling himself.  “Let’s go back.”

A slow smile crept up on Fabian’s face as he leaned back to look at Epke fully.  His knuckles swept across Epke’s jaw, then his lips.  “I hoped you’d say that.”

===

Epke woke up the next morning, his temples and forehead pounding in pain.  He rubbed his eyes, willing the pain to go away.  His mouth was so dry, and he --

His brain stopped as his hand reached across the bed and touched bare skin.  

_Fuck_.

The events of the night before rushed back to him:  the party, drinking too much beer, kissing Fabian, coming back to the suite…  after that it was a blur of memories.  Skin, mouths, his hand on Fabian’s hard cock…

Epke felt something shift under the sheets, and he quickly slid out of bed, hoping he didn’t wake Fabian, who was asleep on the other side.  Half of Fabian’s body hung out of the covers, including his cock, which was hard and long, the dark pink skin pressed up against his stomach as he slept.  

Epke felt his own start to rise as the arousal built up in his low belly again.  He remembered the feeling of Fabi’s wet mouth on him, his tongue stroking up the back side against the vein, gently, then with more force.  God, he did it like he knew exactly what he was doing.  

Epke realized he really didn’t know anything about Fabian and his past:  whether he’d been with other men before, or not.  Maybe Fabi had been gay all along.  Not that it mattered, except that Epke had never been with a guy before this, nor had he ever really wanted to.  But there was something different about Fabi.  Epke suspected there always had been something between them.  It had just taken him a long time to figure it out.

A picture of Linda’s face flashed before his eyes, and he panicked slightly, realizing he didn’t really want to be in the room when Fabian woke up.  He still didn’t really know what this meant.  Were they still friends?  Lovers?  Friends who’d had sex once?  He didn’t really feel like his feelings had changed all that much, except that they had.  There was something about the connection that happened with someone when you shared your body with them fully.  It was like putting on a pair of glasses for the first time and realizing you could actually see clearly where you couldn’t before.

He headed into the bathroom and locked the door, sitting on the toilet seat.  He rubbed his hands rapidly on his face, his head still throbbing.  The thoughts running through his head were doing absolutely nothing to soothe his headache.  An overwhelming sense of guilt surrounded him as he imagined what his mother might say.  He didn’t think she would care about him being involved with a man, but cheating was another thing altogether.  Ma would probably want him to go to confession, even though he hadn’t been in years.  

Shit.  The last thing he wanted to think about right now was _church_.  As if it wasn’t bad enough he had randomly hooked up with his friend.  How was he ever going to be able to look at Fabian the same again?  What if this ruined his concentration during competition?  Was he risking his ability to perform now?  What if Lin ever found out?  Would she break up with him?  

The guilt overcame him again.  There truly was no guilt like Catholic guilt, he thought.  

He sat on the cool toilet seat for a long time until his thoughts had finally settled out and he felt steady enough to take a shower.  Even then, he ran the water cold so his body wouldn’t betray him again.  Fuck.  He was truly fucked.

===

“Morning, sunshine,” Fabian said as he came into the kitchenette.  He immediately went for the coffee maker, apparently not noticing the sullen expression on Epke’s face as he sat at the table, woefully trying to finish a bowl of soggy granola.  

Epke waited until Fabian had made his coffee and sat down with a cup of yogurt and an apple.  

“Man,” Fabian said, “I am so happy to be able to find this German yogurt here -- you have no idea how hard it is to find certain things in the U.S., you know?”  He held the yogurt container out towards Epke.  “Wanna try?”

Epke shook his head quickly.  “Look,” he said, wanting to speak before he lost the courage to do so.  “I think what we did yesterday was a mistake.”

“Oh?” Fabian asked, looking up at him curiously.  If his feelings were hurt, he was working carefully not to show it.  Epke supposed he had probably expected this reaction.

“It’s just - well, I mean, I love Linda, and I -- I never, I mean --”  He sighed, putting his head in his hands.  “I’ve never cheated on her before,” he said between his hands.

“Yeah,” Fabian said quietly.  

“I mean, we’re probably going to get married, so…”  He sighed loudly, leaning back in the chair and looking up at the ceiling.  Tears threatened to escape, and the last thing he wanted to do was cry in front of Fabian.  

Fabian said:  “It was just… you know, we were both drunk, so.”

Epke knew Fabi was trying to give him an out, and he really appreciated that.  “Yeah,” he said, swallowing hard and leaning forward to look his friend in the eye.  He pressed his lips together and nodded; his eyes still felt watery.

“You want to go to the gym for a bit?”

Epke nodded again.  They could be normal.  They had to be.  

===

They managed to get back into a routine by the time they made it to the gym.  In fact, a lot of the tension that had built up between them over the last week seemed to dissipate, which made Epke wonder for a second if getting together with Fabian for a night was maybe the best thing they could have done.  They settled easily into training, and strangely, Epke performed better during his practice than he had in months.  

Everything was going exceptionally well, until later that afternoon, when Sam and his teammate Mark showed up at the gym.  

Sam’s voice echoed across the huge, empty room as he practically sprinted across the gym floor.  “Looooovers!” he called out.  “I knew I’d find you guys here!”

“Sam,” Fabian said as he jumped off the apparatus.  “Not funny.”

“C’mon.  You two were making out like a couple of schoolkids, from what I hear,” Sam grinned.  He clapped to himself.  “So the rumors are true, huh?”

Epke jumped down.  He had been trying to ignore them up to that point, but now he had to say something.  “What rumors?” he asked angrily.  It was bad enough he’d made a mistake, but the last thing he needed was for this to get out everywhere.

“You know -- you and Fabian,” he said, gesturing at the two of them.  “I mean, people have _always_ been joking about you two hooking up.”

“Well, we’re not,” Fabian said with a frown.

“So your lips _weren’t_ all over his?” Mark asked with a smirk.  “Because my eyes begged to differ last night.  C’mon.  I wasn’t _that_ drunk, man.”

“It was…”  Epke looked at Sam helplessly.   “I mean, Sam, you shouldn’t have… I…”  He threw his arms up in frustration.  “I don’t drink, OK?”

“Oh, so blame it on the _alcohol?_ ” Sam asked with a wink, still grinning like an idiot.  

“Hey,” Fabian said, grabbing Sam on the forearm.  “Seriously, listen.  Epke has a girlfriend.  You know that.  He -- eh, we made a mistake.  We were both drunk.  OK?  It didn’t -- nothing happened.”

Mark snorted, rolling his eyes.  “Huh, yeah.  Sure.”  

Sam waved his hand rapidly to dismiss him.  Mark gave him a look but said to Sam, “Fine. I’ll meet you up front.”

Sam waited until Mark had left completely before he looked at Fabian first, then Epke.  His expression became serious.  “Listen.  I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head.  “I mean, I’ve done a lot of stupid things when I was drunk, but --”  He paused, looking at Epke.  Epke stared back at him, equally serious.  “I won’t say anything.  I promise,” Sam said.  “And I’ll make sure these other morons keep their mouths shut, too.”

“Thank you,” Epke said, relief flooding his face.  “I … I really appreciate that.”

“I will say this, though,” Sam lips twisted up, unable to help himself.  “I heard it was _pretty_ hot.”  He wagged his tongue at them.

“Oh, shut up,” Fabian said, jumping up to grab the rings.

Epke just shook his head and went for his water bottle.  His face felt like it was burning up.

“But -- yeah, OK.  You guys coming out to dinner later?” Sam asked, changing the subject.  

Fabian swung around to look at Epke, who shrugged at Fabi in response.  

“It’s just gonna be me and my girlfriend," Sam said.  "I won’t ask any of the other guys to come tonight.”

“Well.  As long as you don’t call it a double date,” Fabian said as he pushed himself up into a handstand.

Sam burst out into loud laughter, and Epke smiled, despite himself.  “ _Jij bent de slechtste_ ,” Epke muttered in Dutch, hopping up onto the pommel horse.  

===

Sam picked them up in front of the hotel at seven that night, his girlfriend Anissa sitting in the front seat next to him.  Outside of the gym, she had practically been glued to Sam.  They had only been dating for a few months, according to Sam, so he guessed it made sense.  Anissa seemed nice enough, Epke thought, even though she spent most of her time giggling at things Sam said and texting on her cell phone.  Mostly, it made Epke miss Linda.  He had talked to her on Skype when he and Fabi had gotten back from the gym earlier that day, but only briefly.  Epke still felt the guilt of last night hanging over his head.  Especially when he thought about Sam’s teammates and friends seeing him with Fabian …

It wasn’t like they _did_ that all the time.  They had _never_ done that before.  And it wasn’t going to happen again, he was sure of that.  He felt mortified again, thinking about it.  He was normally so guarded about the way he presented himself in public.  After all, he had an image to maintain.  And then to do something so stupid…

Epke glanced over at Fabian, who was watching Sam, nodding.  It was at that moment Epke realized Sam had been talking to them, but again, Epke had been too distracted to pay attention.  He shook his head.  “Sorry?” he said, hoping Sam would repeat himself.

“I asked, is Italian OK?” Sam said.  “Anissa really likes this place, but I’m not sure how you guys feel about pasta.  I usually only carbo-load before a competition, but, well, it’s hard to say no to her.”  He grinned at her cheekily, and she leaned across to kiss him on the the side of his mouth.

“Oh, yeah, it’s fine,” Epke said.  “No problem.”  He hoped that Sam and Anissa wouldn’t spend the whole time snuggling up to one another during dinner.  He considered asking if they could sit at a table instead of a booth.  

“It’s almost impossible to find good Italian food in Cologne, so I’ll take it,” Fabian said.  He turned to Epke.  “Sam and I have been exploring the restaurants in this area -- he knows all the good places.”

Epke nodded at him, considering.  He liked to eat out, but didn’t do it a whole lot, mostly because he followed such a strict diet, but also because he actually didn’t mind cooking.  When Linda came over, he usually cooked for her.  He pursed his lips, kneading his fingers together nervously.  He had to stop thinking about his girlfriend back home.  It was putting him in a bad state of mind.

“How about you, Epke?  Is there any food that you’re really excited to try here?” Anissa asked.

“Eh, not particularly,” he said.  “I mean, I like pretty much anything.”  He thought for a moment.  “Oh -- but Sam brought us to eat -- what do you call them?  Buffalo wings, the first night I was here?  I had never tried that before.”

Sam started laughing out loud.  “Yeah,” he said, nudging Anissa on the arm.  “He tried to order a _salad_ at B-Dubs.  We all totally ripped on him for that.”

“Hey,” Epke said defensively.  “I was just trying to be healthy.”  He made a face.  “Anyway, what I’m saying is that I liked them, OK?  Especially the, eh -- Mango Habanero, I think?  Those were the best, yeah.”

“Can’t go wrong with that,” Anissa agreed.  “My favorite’s the regular hot wings.  We probably go to B-Dubs at least once a week.”  She pouted at Sam.  “I can’t believe you didn’t invite me.”

“You had practice that night, babe,” Sam said, grabbing her hand.  Anissa was on the tennis team at the university; she had told Epke when they’d first met.  

Anissa continued to stick her lower lip out at him, and Sam squeezed her hand.  “I’ll bring you back there later this week, OK, Nissy?”

“OK, Sammy,” she said, grabbing his hand to kiss it.

Epke glanced over at Fabian, who was pantomiming a gagging motion.  He couldn’t help but smile in response.  Suddenly, he didn’t feel so alone.

===

“You know what has been kind of nice?” Epke asked as they sat at the table, waiting for the food to arrive.

“What?” Sam asked.  He took a long gulp of the Peroni he was drinking.

Epke unconsciously tapped on his water glass.  He was not drinking any alcohol tonight.  Not on his life.  Interestingly enough, Fabian was also drinking a beer along with Sam.  He didn’t think Fabian was much of a drinker, either.  He wondered if Fabian’s choice had anything to do with being around Sam, who acted a lot like Epke's other friends at home who went to university - partying and drinking a lot.  It was a wonder Sam was an elite gymnast, the way he was able to eat and drink.  Epke was pretty sure Sam was going to school to become a nutritionist, too.  On the other hand, Epke mostly only saw Sam in the evenings.  It was possible Sam ate perfectly healthy earlier in the day, Epke thought.  It wasn’t his place to judge.  Everyone was different.

Epke continued:  “It’s been nice being able to go out without being approached for a picture or autograph everywhere I go.  It’s been kind of crazy back at home, since the Olympics.”

“Oh?” Fabian asked, pitching an eyebrow.  “Because you’re so famous in your peanut-sized country?”

It was a common joke between them how the Netherlands was only a third of the size of Germany.  They always jokingly compared their relative level of fame in their home countries.  

“Sure, maybe I didn’t have my own biography written about me at twenty-two, but we know how your people love you in Germany,” Epke grinned at him.  "So much, they tried to _drown_ you," he joked, referring to the time Fabian had appeared on a celebrity high-diving show in his home country.  Fabian wasn't a great swimmer.  Most male gymnasts weren't.  Their upper bodies were too heavy to be conducive to swimming.  Fabian made a face at him.

“Germans love David Hasselhoff, too, so I don’t know if that means anything,” Anissa said, giggling.

“OK,” Fabian said, holding his hand up.  “First of all, that’s just a -- what do you call it?  Urban myth, or whatever?  It’s just something everyone says, but no one my age cares at all about David Hasselhoff.”

“Don’t hassle the Hoff,” Sam snorted, poking Anissa in the side.  They both started snickering.

“And second of all,” Fabian continued, ignoring them.  “Well, I don’t have a second of all, except that only one person came up to ask to take our picture since I've been here, and they recognized Sam first, so, well, I guess you have a point, Epke.”

“So you both get approached all the time at home?” Sam asked after he had stopped chuckling.  “That’s so weird, man.  I mean, I got some attention after the Olympics, but no one pays attention to me usually, unless it’s at meets."

“Considering that your state is probably the size of my country, that makes sense,” Epke said.  “And I’m just saying - it’s nice to be not noticed.  I feel like I can actually enjoy a --”

Before he could finish the sentence, however, they were interrupted by two girls who had approached the table.  They stood there awkwardly for a couple seconds before Sam said, “Hello...?”  He smiled widely at them, expecting that they were probably there for him.  

“Hi,” one of the girls said.  She appeared to be in her late twenties, past school age, and nervously fingered the necklace she was wearing.  Her curly hair stuck out in corkscrews from all sides of her head.  “I’m so sorry for interrupting your meal, but, um, my friend and I, we’re both huge fans of yours and, um, it’s just really cool to see you in person.”

“Wow, thanks,” Sam said, flashing a disarming smile that made it seem like he had never been approached like that before.  Epke wasn’t surprised at how nicely he reacted; after all, Sam was nice to everyone, but it was still good to see.  Epke tried to be equally accommodating to fans as much as he could.  It just got tiring sometimes.  Sam seemed like the type of person who would never be tired of the attention.

“I mean, um, we’re actually fans of all you guys,” she said, nodding at Fabian and Epke, all the while, turning bright red.  

Her friend standing next to her, who was short, wore glasses and was athletically built, nodded vigorously.  “We actually can’t believe you’re all, um, here.  I mean, we saw the picture that you, um, Fabian --” she nodded at him, “--posted on your Facebook with Sam, but, um, yeah, we, uh, didn’t expect to see Epke -- we love your high bar!  Oh my God!”

“Thanks.”  Epke smiled, pretending to be modest.  He found that was the best way to be around people, regardless of how you were feeling.  The last thing he wanted to hear was how he’d supposedly acted like a jerk to one of his fans.  His Ma would never forgive him for that.  

“Are you all competing in the American Cup in March?” the first girl asked.

“Just Sam and I,” Fabian said.  “He’s just visiting.” Fabian gestured to Epke.

“He _wishes_ he was going,” Sam said, as Fabian reached across the table to high five him.  The two fans immediately started giggling.  Epke rolled his eyes theatrically.  

“Sure, sure,” he said, going along with the show.

“Can, we, uh, take a picture with you guys?  For the gymternet?” the second girl asked.

The first slapped the girl on the arm, and squeaked.  “Why did you say that?” she whispered, loudly enough for them all to hear.  

The two girls shot looks and annoyed gestures back and forth at each other, while Epke leaned over to Fabian and muttered, “What’s the ‘gymternet?’”

Sam snorted, overhearing him.  “Gymnastics fans on the internet - it’s a nickname mash-up, I guess?”

“Ah, like fans on Twitter, and Facebook?” Epke asked.  To be honest, he wasn’t very involved in the internet.  Even if he had time for it, he had figured out a long time ago it was a bad idea to look yourself up on the internet.  That was how he’d found out those nude pictures Ewoud Broeksma had taken of him had made their way online.  After that, he stopped going on the internet, except to check and occasionally update his Twitter account.  He shuddered to think what the ‘gymternet’ would think about he and Fabian hooking up.

“And Tumblr,” the second girl added, before the first slapped her again.  

“I’m sorry about her,” the first girl said, shaking her head vigorously.  “I totally understand if you don’t want us to take your picture.”

“Nah,” Fabian said, standing up.  “It’s fine -- you can take our picture.  Just tag us on Twitter or Facebook so we can see it, OK?”

“Oh my God, thank you!  That’s awesome!” the first girl said, while the other one just squealed.  

It was hard to tell the difference between them and the hordes of teenage girls Epke encountered on a day-to-day basis when he made public appearances.  He tried not to show his annoyance though, still preoccupied with thoughts of what had happened the night before.  He waited until Fabian was standing next to one of the girls, Sam on the left of the other, and he put himself next to Sam while Anissa took the picture.  Still, he couldn’t ignore the slightly hurt expression Fabian shot in his direction before he turned to smile for the camera.  It gave Epke a twisting feeling in his gut.

===

Later, when they got back to the suite, Fabian headed straight to his room, closing the door after himself.  He hadn’t acted like he was outwardly upset with Epke, but Epke knew he’d done something to make Fabian upset, and he suspected the incident at the restaurant had only been a small part of it.  He assumed Fabian was feeling rejected about everything.  It wouldn’t be surprising, considering that they’d spent the night together, and then Epke had basically blown him off.  If he had been in Fabian’s shoes, he’d be upset, too.  He figured it was better just to leave him alone for the time being.

Epke sat down on the stiff couch in the living room area of the suite, turning on the television.  He flipped around until he could find an American sitcom to watch -- he needed something funny to distract himself.  

He could only stand about fifteen minutes of it before he got up and started pacing around the room.  This was ridiculous, he thought.  He’d known Fabian for almost fifteen years.  He didn’t want a stupid mistake to get in the way of their friendship.  They needed to talk about this.

Gingerly, he approached the door to Fabian’s room, knocking lightly.  He heard Fabian clear his throat on the other side of the door, before he heard, “Yes?”

Epke let out a slow breath before he answered.  “Can I come in?” he asked carefully.  

There was another long pause before he heard footsteps coming toward the door and a lock disengaging.  Fabian opened the door, turning away as it opened, and gestured at the bed.  “Make yourself comfortable,” he said, crossing the room to sit in the side chair that was in front of the room’s desk.

“Listen,” Epke started, but Fabian turned toward him, holding his hand up.  He noticed Fabian’s eyes were rimmed with red.  He must have been crying, he thought soberly.   _Shit_.

“No,” Fabian said, “let me talk first.”  Epke nodded silently, waiting for him to speak.  “You probably want to apologize, I can tell by your tone of voice, but --” he shook his head, “I’m the one that should be apologizing.  I feel like, um, I mean, I broke up with my girlfriend, and came here, and I was lonely, and I invited you here, and, just -- I shouldn’t have done what I did.  I feel like I led you on.”

Huh, Epke thought.  That did explain a lot.  “You told me you weren’t going to make me do anything I didn’t want to do,” he pointed out, swinging his knee up onto the bed to face Fabian more fully.  

“But you were drunk, and -- I mean, I was too, honestly, but I feel like I kind of took advantage of that,” Fabian frowned.

“I knew what I was doing,” Epke said.  It felt strange to say that aloud.  Was he admitting to Fabian that he’d liked it?  It wasn’t a lie -- in fact, he couldn’t stop staring at Fabian’s lips as they talked.  A strange sensation was starting to pool in his stomach and low belly again.  He didn’t want this to become a thing between them, but.

“Yeah,” Fabian said, quietly, still looking down at his hands.  “But you have a girlfriend.”

“I do,” Epke said.  “And I love her.”  Epke sighed, feeling his breath come out ragged.  “And I don’t want to hurt her.”

“Yeah,” Fabian said.  

Epke watched Fabian’s adam's apple move as he swallowed once, then again.  “Are you… gay?” Epke asked, carefully.  He wasn’t trying to offend him, he just wanted to know.  Had he missed something all these years?  

“Maybe--?” Fabian said.  

“I mean, not that it would change anything in our friendship, so you know,” Epke put in quickly.

Fabian half-smiled.  “Well…”  

Epke watched him chew on his lip.  Fuck.  He needed to stop starting at Fabian’s mouth.  All he could think about was the way Fabian kissed.  Fabian was a good -- no, fantastic kisser.  He hadn’t been kissed like that in years.  

“I mean, I guess I’ve always kind of been interested in guys,” Fabian said.  “I like girls, too, I’ve only had girlfriends, but I’ve fantasized about hooking up with guys, for sure.  Plus, it’s hard not to think about guys when you’re always sharing locker rooms and showers, you know?”

Epke tried not to frown.  Actually, it _wasn’t_ , because his mind really didn’t work that way.  Fabian was the first and only guy he could honestly say he had felt any kind of sexual attraction towards.  He had no problem acknowledging if a man was attractive, but he’d never wanted to get into a guy’s pants.  Until now.  And he couldn’t figure out what had changed, what made Fabian different. He wasn’t sure what to say, so he waited for Fabian to continue.

"There's something different about you, though,” Fabian continued. “I mean, I really respect you as a friend and a competitor.  It’s not just about wanting your body.”  He chuckled nervously, still rubbing his lower lip between his teeth.

Fabian needed to stop doing that, or they were going to end up making out again in no time, Epke thought.  He forced himself to breathe out through his mouth, to calm the rising nausea that was surfacing in his belly.  

“Fabian…” he started to say, but stopped as Fabian came over and sat next to him on the bed, their legs touching.  He put his hand on Epke’s knee, pressing his lips together tightly as he stared at Epke.

 

Epke felt like the sides of his face were on fire, and his the skin on his knee tingled where Fabian’s fingers rested.  The same fingers that had skillfully massaged his dick until he was just about ready to come, bringing him just to the brink, and then -- fuck.  He wanted nothing more than to feel like that again, that overwhelming desire and pleasure, rushing through his veins as he got so close…

He shut his eyes, then, breathing deeply.  He wasn’t sure was Fabian was planning, but he was pretty sure whatever he was about to do, Epke wasn’t going to stop him.

“Epke,” Fabian whispered then, leaning in so closely, he could feel the wisps of Fabian’s breath tickling his lips.  They parted involuntarily, and his eyelids fluttered open.  He stared into the darkened pupils of Fabian’s eyes, and waited.  “I just… can I just feel your lips, just…”

Epke swallowed quickly.  He didn’t want to say yes, _he really didn’t_ , but he knew he couldn’t say no.  So instead he leaned forward to close the short gap, gently pressing his lips against Fabian’s.  

Fabian didn’t move, allowing Epke to ever so delicately lay kisses against his mouth.  This was different than before, tender and slow.  “Your lips are so soft,” Fabian murmured between breaths.  “I love how soft your lips are.”

"I like pressing them against yours,"  Epke murmured back.  "I don't know why."  He touched his lips to Fabian's again, leaning in with a little more pressure.

And just like that, something snapped.  Epke wasn't sure who initiated it, but a second later, Epke's hands were on Fabian's face, Fabian's fingers desperately grabbing Epke's hair as their tongues mashed against each other's.  Fabian climbed on top of his lap, grinding down into Epke's center.  They continued like that for a few minutes, barely taking time to breathe, until Fabian finally broke away, panting heavily and staring at Epke with pitch black, wild eyes.

"I can't..." Fabian whimpered.  "I can't, I don't want to hurt you.  We need to stop."  

He saw Fabian's eyes starting to water, and then, just like that, tears sprang to his own eyes.  He swallowed hard, willing himself not to cry.  "Yeah," he breathed out, pushing himself back on the bed.

"I really care about you, you know."

"Yeah," Epke said, grabbing his hand and squeezing it for a second.  "I know."

"It's probably good you're leaving tomorrow," he said sadly.

Epke just nodded.  He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again.  Everything they needed to say had already been said.  

"You should probably get some sleep.  You have a long flight tomorrow."

Epke nodded again, a smile inching up on his face.  "Thanks, Ma," he said standing up.

"C'mon, now," Fabian said, standing up as well. He pretended to make a face at Epke and poked him on the shoulder.  "I'm just looking out for you."

"I know," Epke said, touching his arm briefly.  "I'll see you in the morning?"

"Yep," Fabian said, pressing his lips together so hard, they turned white.

"OK," Epke said, closing the door quietly behind him.

 

===

They were almost at the airport the next day when Epke cleared his throat, causing Fabian to look over at him.  “Hey, I just want to make sure -- we’re, um, we’re going to be OK, right?” he asked.

Fabian furrowed his brow, glancing between Epke and the road.  He nodded dutifully.  “Of course.  What, uh -- what happened between us, you know, I mean…”  His hands fidgeted on the steering wheel.  “I… I wasn’t trying to do anything you didn’t want to do.”  As they stopped at a light, he turned fully to look at Epke.  “You know that, right?”

Epke nodded in response, pressing his lips together.  “Of course,” he said.  “I mean, we’re long-time friends, and I want to still be friends, you know.”

“Yes, always,” Fabian said, reaching across to offer a fist bump.  Epke returned it sheepishly.  After a pause, Fabian added, “Even if you _don’t_ want my body.”  He smiled openly at Epke, who shook his head in response.

“I’m not going to answer that,” Epke said, sticking his tongue out.  

It wasn't that, but they both knew it.  Epke felt relief flood over him.  Things were going to be OK.  

 

===

**Epilogue**

**2014 European Championships, Sofia, Bulgaria - Post-Competition Banquet**

**May 2014**

===

“Epke!  The Flying Dutchman!” Marcel Nguyen’s hands flew up in the air as he approached Epke at the post-competition banquet, held in the hotel near the sports stadium.  He gave him a hug as they met up.  Trailing behind him were fellow gymnasts Andreas Bretschneider from Germany and his Dutch teammate, Bart Deurloo, drinks in hand.  They handed Epke a glass of beer, and hugged him as well.

“That four element combination you had was crazy,” Andreas said.  “You had a D-score of _8.1_.  Unbelievable.  I think you will get gold at Rio for sure.”

Epke shook his head quickly, glancing around.  “I don’t know,” he said with a slight smile.  “There’s still a long time before then.”

“Worlds is coming,” Marcel said, slapping his arm.  “You’re going to blow the Chinese out of the water.”

“Maybe, but you can’t forget Japan,” Bart said.  He took a drink of his beer, making a face.  “Everyone says Kohei is working on a new bar routine.  And the Chinese always do better in their home country.”

Epke shrugged, and glanced over at his girlfriend, who leaned into him.  “I think you can still beat them,” she said, kissing him gently on the cheek.  Epke grinned at her, kissing her on the temple.  

Bart rolled his eyes.  “Of course _you_ do,” he said to her with an equally large grin.  “I want Epke to take gold at Worlds, too; I’m just being real. It’s getting tough out there.”

“You did great today, though,” Epke nodded at Bart.  “I am proud of our team.”  

“You guys have come a long way,” Marcel said, “thanks to you,” he nodded at Epke.

Linda nudged Epke.  “I’m going to go get a drink and find your Ma,” she said in Dutch.  “I know you want to talk to the guys.”

He gave her a squeeze before letting her go, right as his brother Herre walked up, Fabian in tow.  They were laughing loudly.  “Hey,” Herre said as he reached them.  “Here’s my bro - overtaking everyone on high bar again!”

“Well, I’m just glad the new routine worked out.  I was a little nervous about trying it out at competition so soon, but I felt like I was ready for it,” he said.

“No kidding,” Fabian said, grinning at him.  Epke’s stomach jumped slightly as his eyes met with Fabian’s.  “You killed the competition.  Even me.”  He waggled his eyebrows at Epke.

“Please, you _wish_ you could come close to me,” Epke said, pursing his lips.

“Absolutely I do,” Fabian said, and the look Fabian gave Epke made his stomach jump again suddenly.  He took a large gulp of his beer, hoping it wasn’t obvious he had started blushing.

“Heeey,” Herre said, coming over to put his arm around Epke, his mouth turning up into a smirk.  “So, I heard an _interesting_ rumor about a couple gymnasts we know.”  

Epke’s stomach lurched.  Herre only used that tone of voice when he was up to trouble.  Epke refused to look at him, dreading what was coming next.  Herre couldn’t know anything, could he?  He felt a rush of heat rising up his neck.  It was suddenly hard to swallow.

“What’d you hear?” Bart asked.  He and Marcel leaned forward eagerly, always up for some good gossip.  They probably assumed it was another story about the Russian gymnasts.  There were always crazy stories coming out of their team.  Or maybe the Ukranians.  

“Oh.  Just a little story about a naughty, _em_ , ‘make-out session’ between two male gymnasts.”  Herre stuck his tongue out between his teeth.

“ _What?_ ” Marcel asked, his mouth dropping open.  “Who?”  All three of the guys were paying rapt attention to Herre now.

Fabian and Epke both immediately went silent.  Had Sam said something to Herre?   He didn’t think the two talked -- they probably hadn’t even seen each other since the last Worlds.  So how did Herre hear about that?  He glanced over at Fabian, who was staring back at him with his mouth ajar.  Epke shook his head at Fabian, to say it wasn't him, hoping Herre wouldn’t notice.  Epke didn't want this getting out.  What the fuck.  This was _bad_.

Herre did notice, however.  “Wait.  Oh my _God_ ,” Herre said, letting go of Epke and clapping his hand over his mouth.  “I thought it was a joke!” he said in Dutch, his eyes going wide..  “Oh, my God.   _Holy shit._ ”

“What?” Bart asked, who had understood what Herre had said.  “What joke?”

“Who is it?” Marcel asked at the same time.  “Who was making out?”

“Oh!  Hey, what if it was Belyaviskiy and Garabov?   _Everyone_ says those two are fucking,” Andreas said bluntly, laughing.

“No, no, no...” Herre said quietly, shaking his head.  His expression had quickly turned to a frown, and Epke grabbed him roughly by the arm, dragging him out of earshot.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he hissed at his brother in Dutch.  “Why would you bring that up _here_ , of all places?  That's not even remotely funny.  Everyone talks!  And where in God’s name did you hear about that, anyway?”  His mind was racing.  If Herre had heard something, then who else _knew_ about it?  He wondered if there were any pictures.  The thought made his blood turn cold.

“So the rumor was true, then,” Herre said, leveling his gaze with Epke’s.

“What exactly did you hear?” Epke said, staring back at him.  “And from whom?”

“You know what I heard,” Herre said.  “And it didn’t come from Sam Mikulak, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Epke nodded, staring off to the side, his eyes losing focus.   He sighed loudly.  “Just so you know,” he said quietly, “ _whatever_ you heard, it was -- just too much alcohol, you know?”  Epke shrugged, trying to act casual as his eyes shifted up towards Fabian, who was watching him from a few feet away.  “We were at a party.  Nothing really, eh, happened," he lied.

“You don’t get drunk,” Herre said.

“I know.  That’s _why_ I don’t,” he snapped.  “Stupid things happen.”

“OK, but --”

“I _told_ you,” Epke said, his eyes boring into Herre’s.  He contracted and opened his fists a couple times, trying to contain his anger, which had quickly surfaced.  “ _Nothing_ happened.”  He glanced over to his right again, where he saw Fabian watching him with concern.  Epke shook his head at Fabian imperceptibly.  He saw Fabian nod back just slightly and return to his conversation with Andreas, who was now jumping up and down in place and pantomiming a routine.  They must have changed the topic, Epke thought thankfully.

“All right.  This _better_ not get out,” Herre said, tipping his head back to finish off his beer.  He leveled his stare at Epke again.  “I thought it was just another joke about you two.  I like to joke around with you guys, but I didn't think there was _actually_ something going on.  I mean…”  He frowned again deeply.  “You would ruin Linda, you know.  She wants to marry you.  She told me.”

Epke sighed.  He knew that.  Of course he knew that.  “You didn’t see any pictures of us, right?”  he asked.

“God, no,” Herre said.  His eyes went wide.  “Were there _pictures_?”  

Epke shook his head quickly.  “I don’t think so.”  He thought for a minute, and breathed out slowly.  “So.  If anyone asks, that’s all it is -- a joke.  People like to mess with us, because we’re good friends.  OK?”  He leveled his gaze at his brother.  He felt like he was reassuring himself as much as his brother.  "That’s it.  We're not together."

Herre squared his shoulders, which meant he was going to let it go.  Epke breathed out deeply, unaware he’d been holding his breath.   “ _Natuurlijk, broer,_ ” Herre said, raising his eyebrows at him.  He started to walk away, but turned around again at the last second, his lips turning up slightly.  He leaned into Epke.  “Um.  OK.  I just -- I have to know.  Was he at least a good kisser?”

Epke punched his bicep, hard.  “ _Krijg de klere,_ ” he said, swearing at Herre, who grunted in pain.  Then, smiling slightly, he shrugged and said in English, “Not bad, I guess.”

===

END

===

 

**Author's Note:**

> Again, all comments and feedback are appreciated. Please excuse any technical errors, because, as I stated, I am a novice gymnastics fan, and an American who does not speak Dutch, so I did the best I could to make the story as accurate as possible.


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